If the Bomb was Blocked
by bobateatime
Summary: What if the bomb had never done damage, and Fred Weasley's life had been spared? All thanks to...Hermione Granger? Fremione Fanfic


Chapter 1: Bruise Removal Paste

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or am profiting off of this in any way. That beautiful privilege belongs to someone else. Just a harmless fan fiction :)_

_A/N: I did change some things, but it isn't really AU, I just added characters into conversations they weren't in before to add more context_

* * *

**Fred's P.O.V.**

Spell after spell. Block after block. Attack after attack. It was wearing on me. I don't know how long I'll be able to keep this up. Rookwood was definitely a strong Death Eater.

Percy has gone by now. He was terribly worried about Mum and Dad. "I got this Percy, you go," I had said. He only nodded and ran off before Rookwood could do any harm. Now it was just Rookwood and I.

I tried my best, but even he was too fast and before I knew it, my wand was flying out of my hands and all the way across the corridor. And that was it. I knew that was the last of it.

I lay on the floor, as I watched Rookwood's wicked grin take shape on his face, his wand raised. I watched as he uttered the spell that would cause a massive explosion. And then I waited for the burn of the flames to wash my skin in fury.

But I never felt them.

Instead, I watched as Hermione jumped right in front of me, shouting out a spell that conjured a shield, creating a barrier between us and Rookwood, whose curse rebounded off the shield and on to himself.

I watched as Hermione lowered the shield, and put out Rookwood's flaming corpse. She knelt down, turning her attention to me. I watched as she rambled and scanned over my face, looking at the surely horror like injuries.

"Merlin's Beard, Fred! Are you alright?! You could have _died_! Oh, I can't even imagine—Ron's gone to the Chamber of Secrets to find the Basilisk Fang, by the way—but dear God Fred Weasley, you sure know how to scare the hell out of me!" she said, all too fast. I sat upright and she pulled me into a bone crushing hug.

"Ow—Hermione. My. Arms," I said, my bruises and cuts taking their toll. She pulled away quickly, cringing. "Sorry."

"Fred! There you are! I've been looking all over the castle for you! I was scared you—," exclaimed George as he ran over to me. I chuckled. "If anyone's going to die here, it's you, brother." He only scoffed. "Yeah right."

Hermione stood up from the ground. "I'm off the help the rest of them. Fred, _please, _do NOT get that close to dying again. I don't think I can take another loss," she said with a frown, eyes glancing at the Great Hall, where all our dead friends lay. And then she left.

I wonder, why did she risk her life for mine? It's not like we were great friends, like Ron and Harry. Maybe she did it for Ron's sake. Or George's. Her and George are much better friends than her and I. I can see why she might do that. If George died, I honestly don't know how I would live my life. How does one live without their best friend?

It's not like we weren't friends, I mean, we get along and we are friends, but her and I definitely had the weakest bond out of all of us.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by George's teasing about how close I got to dying. Looking at George, and thinking about him dying, made me want to throw myself off of the astronomy tower.

I think it's best not to revisit that subject for awhile. Or ever.

The rest of the battle went in a blur. Death Eaters everywhere. Screams around every corner. I think I'd take Hell over this.

Harry Potter is dead.

Wait, no, he's not.

Neville slices the snake.

Voldemort disperses in the air like ashes leave their logs in a fire, floating away in death.

I feel like I mostly just stand around in shock the whole time, like Nearly Headless Nick, floating around and watching. It's a nightmare.

But it's over in a second, because soon we've left Hogwarts and are now at the Burrow, which has been rebuilt to the stature it once was. I feel like a stranger in my own house. Maybe I am. One things for sure, I am definitely not the person who left the house just this morning.

Amazing. So little time has passed.

Everyone is silent. No one speaks the remainder of the night, the only sounds being the occasional squeak of a cry, all of us trying our best to hide our agony. It doesn't work very well.

We know we're lucky to have our family in one piece, but our friends…

Remus.

Tonks.

Lavender Brown.

Colin Creevy.

Mad Eye Moody.

Dobby.

Hedwig.

Even Snape.

We've all lost so many people.

Everyone goes to bed early, exhausted from the day. I sit on the couch and watch as they all tread upstairs. Ron. Hermione. Harry, who's supporting a sobbing Ginny as they walk up the stairs. Mum. Dad. George and I.

I find myself wondering what Percy is up to at this moment, as well as Bill and Charlie. I wonder if Fleur is alright. It would crush Bill if she wasn't.

I change and head to bed as fast I can. Sleep comes easily, but is not met without a horrific nightmare of the day before's events.

I gasp for air as I wake up from the dreadful dream, sitting upright and alert, my eyes looking around me wildly. I can feel sweat all over me, and I'm breathing heavily. There's no way I'm going back to sleep now, at least not here.

I look over to George, who is sound asleep. Well, not _sound_ asleep. I can hear him tossing and turning, grunting and mumbling the names of our dead friends, but at least he's managed to stay asleep.

By the looks of outside, it looks to be a bit after midnight.

I head down the stairs and into the kitchen, expecting an alone room, only to find myself in the company of Hermione, who sits exhausted at the table. "Nightmares?" I ask. She nods. I nod back sadly as well, and look into the fridge to find myself a glass of milk. I sit at the table and drink it in silence as she sits and picks at the table.

She wears a blanket around her shoulders, and the bags under her eyes from lack of sleep are prominent. Her eyelids droop and her hair lay a frizzy mess atop her head. Her skin is covered in bruises and scars. Bruises…

An eyebrow raise from Hermione is enough to let me know that I've probably been studying her for a good minute. I'm immediately embarrassed, flushing what I am sure is a bright red. "Your bruise," I say, pointing to her under eye. "What about it?" she asks.

I get up from the table and dig through the many drawers until I find what I seek.

I hand it over to Hermione. We both smile, remembering fondly of the memory. I've given her Bruise Removal Paste, and we're both remembering when I helped her with a bruise on her eye, a bruise that was created by my very own punching telescope. "Thanks Fred."

I smile and am about the leave the kitchen, when I turn around and ask, "Hermione...why did you risk your life for mine?" Her answer is simple.

"Wouldn't you do the same for me?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Exactly. I care for you Fred, I wouldn't leave you to die," she says with a slight head shake and a chuckle. I chuckle as well. "No, I suppose not. Night, Mione."

"Night, Fred."

I then made my way to the couch, knowing fairly well I wouldn't be able to drift off in my bed.

As I lay with my eyes closed, I let my mind wonder. Despite everything that's happened, I find my mind focused on Hermione's answer. "I care for you Fred, I wouldn't leave you to die," she had said.

I drifted off before I could think about it longer.

* * *

_A/N: So….thoughts? I think I'm going to update every three days, or at least try. That sounds reasonable, right? _


End file.
